Just as I was determined to find a girlfriend for that little brat Bai Su, two low thuds echoed from the front door.

A slightly hoarse girl’s voice followed: “Su Su—Su Su? Is Su Su home?”

Calling for me?

I froze.

Bai Su heard it and called back, “Coming, coming!” He walked to the door and peered through the peephole.

The girl outside spoke softly: “Brother Bai Su? Is that you? It’s me, Little Fish. I’m here for Su Su.”

A click sounded as the door opened. Slippers shuffled. Bai Su greeted warmly: “Oh, it’s you, Little Fish! Long time no see. Su Su’s in her room—she’s feeling under the weather today.”

“I see. Is she sick?”

“Well… just go see for yourself.”

“Okay, I’ll head to Su Su’s room. Bye, Brother Bai Su.”

“Mm-hmm, bye. I’m going back to my room too.”

Their conversation ended.

The door closed. Light, rhythmic footsteps approached my room, stopped at my door. The knob turned—but it was locked from inside. After a pause, gentle knocks came: “Su Su, open up. It’s Little Fish.”

My face flushed slightly. I cringed at my foolishness for locking it.

I dragged my weak body out of bed, shuffled in slippers, and opened the door.

The girl saw my sickly look and frowned delicately. She adjusted her crossbody bag’s strap, reached out to steady me. Her soft body pressed close as she guided me back to bed.

I smiled wryly. “Little Fish, I’m not that sick. Don’t treat me like a terminal patient.”

Yu Qingyu snorted. She set her bag on the table and sat on my bed. “You again with period cramps? You never care for yourself—low blood sugar, cramps. Look at you, so many issues at your age. What’ll happen when you’re old? You need to know that blah blah blah…”

Here we go again… this motherly nagging drilling into my ears for ages.

My head ached.

This girl was only a month older than me, yet acted like a full adult. Her mental age was incredibly mature.

But my dearest deskmate Yu Qingyu was also an adorable petite girl. She looked younger than me—almost like an elementary student.

So her calm, motherly expression became a strangely cute contrast.

Of course, these traits were from the old Su Su. I’d never tease Little Fish about them—she’d beat me up if I did.

Despite her cute looks, Little Fish had uncanny strength.

In short, Yu Qingyu—my deskmate and class monitor—was a downright eccentric petite girl.

“I feel like you’re thinking something rude…” Little Fish stopped nagging and gave me a dangerous look.

My gut said: no good answer, and I’d be beaten.

I put on an innocent face. “Huh? What? I was just wondering why our dear class monitor came to see me. What’s up?”

Little Fish stared into my eyes. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll believe you for now.”

I secretly sighed in relief.

“Well…” she started again.

My heart sank.

But she didn’t continue. Instead, she pulled two books from her bag, flashed them at me, and set them on the table.

“These are the books I borrowed. I came to return them.”

“Mm-hmm, thanks for braving this heat to bring them back.”

“No problem,” she hesitated. “Su Su…”

“Hmm? What?”

“…Nothing.” She seemed to drop some thought.

I shrugged at her flickering gaze. “A woman’s heart is hard to fathom”—that saying’s true. I’m a cute girl now, but my heart’s still an uncle’s. I can’t grasp how women think.

Even women can’t always read each other.

Right now, I had no clue what Yu Qingyu was thinking.

“By the way, Su Su, did you apply to No.1 High for the entrance exam?” she changed the topic.

“Huh?” I blinked, then replied, “Yes. It’s the best school here, and the bar isn’t too high for us… so I chose it.”

Right—we’d just finished exams, about to start high school as freshmen.

“Is that so?” She nodded calmly. “Good.”

“‘Good’? Did you apply there too?”

“Mm. No better options.”

“I heard No.1 High’s taking way more students this year. Hope we end up in the same class again.”

“Indeed,” Little Fish nodded, a heavy light in her eyes. “The education bureau’s pouring resources into No.1 High this year. They want a top-tier key school. So enrollment’s up, and the bar’s higher.”

“Huh???” I feigned a little girl’s shock. “The cutoff score rose?”

“Yes.”

My mood darkened.

In my last timeline, I was drowning in grief after my parents’ death. But I’d heard major news—never anything about resources shifting to No.1 High.

Was this a variable’s doing?

Did some butterfly in the ocean of spacetime flap its wings and stir this storm?

I frowned—not over the score. Su Su was brilliant; any school would welcome her. I wouldn’t be filtered out.

I worried about something else.

I looked toward the distant future.

That fixed, unchanging path—seemed to warp… and fracture.